Death is Just the Start
by Biochemical-Influx
Summary: Lythia Clarke just wanted a good vacation, but when people start eating other people, she has to make quite a change of plans. After an incident with one of THEM happens, she's rescued by a few mystery men... Who are they? You can probably guess. Follow Lythia's adventures in the world of ZOMBIES! (Read and review!)
1. Bad Vacation Locations and Cannibals

**A/N: Hello, dears! This is a remake of my previous story from my other account. I'm trying to make my character believable in the Zombies storyline. Read on and enjoy!**

Chapter 1

_It's really dark in this place... I don't know where I am and I'm scared. I don't know what happened to the people here but they're like cannibals... It's pure chaos everywhere! I don't know where to go or if anyone is still...sane..._

_All I know right now is that I have to escape somehow..._

_To anyone who reads this, my name is Lythia Clarke... I am twenty-five years old, I have curly blonde hair, and blue and green eyes, and I'm from Edinburg, Scotland. I don't know why this is relevant, but... Maybe you'll find me. I'm running from crazed freaks and I can't find anyone normal... I can't survive alone._

The young blonde woman put down her small journal and pen, sighing quietly. The matted curls on her head were met with a weak, shaky hand, which brushed them from her face.

Her thoughts then were on her twin brother and father. Where were they? Were they even alive? These questions angrily raced in her mind as an unsettling feeling set in.

_I knew taking this damned trip was a bad idea_, she thought. _I never should have left home._

She stood, quaking in her low heels and rubbing her gooseflesh-ridden arms. The building she had gotten into to run from the crazies was creaking, with pieces cracking and falling from every inch of the structure. As her eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness, Lythia saw the dusty furniture and banisters.

_Nazi swastikas everywhere?... Great interior decorator,_ she thought, snickering.

Everything was torn, coated in dust, broken, or all of the above. Papers were scattered all along the floors as if everyone left in a rush. Lythia was starting to get scared. Maybe this place wasn't as safe as she figured...

She shook her head, studying what seemed to be the lobby. There twin staircases, both leading to an elegant miniature balcony. Under the balcony was a passageway which lead to two sets of double doors. To the left was one set, then forward was the other. There was a section of a wall, cut down to create some sort of a counter.

Back toward the foot of the right staircase was a mini bar. Up the staircase was another set of doors, which were open.

Lythia paused, thinking out loud.

"Why is this way open, but the others aren't?" She giggled, "Lythia Holmes: Professional Nazi Building Investigator."

The girl was silenced by the sound of loud, rhythm-like footfalls.

"H-hello?..." Her voice cracked a bit from the quiet volume level she was using.

The steps continued.

Her courage began to build, and she spoke a tad louder.

"Helloooooooo? Is anyone there?"

The steps ceased. Seconds passed before the feet causing the noise broke into a run... Right for her.

Lythia's fear was growing at an alarming rate.

A man came into view. He was wearing a tattered, gray uniform. A bright red armband was visible on his left side, showing his affiliation with a dark obviousness.

"Sir, are you alright?..."

The man kept running until he stopped dead ten feet from her.

"O-oh my god..."

He was covered in holes and tears in his graying skin. A grotesque mix of saliva and blood poured from his mouth like a slimy waterfall.

His eyes glowed orange.

Lythia froze as his lips curled back in a snarl. He's one of them!... She thought, panicking. She knew she wasn't safe here. Her eyes grew wet and her vision was obscured by tears.

_I'm going to die._

_I'm going to die._

_I am going to __**die**_...

The "man" pinned her down on the ground, and without hesitation, reached for her exposed flesh.

As the excruciating pop and tear of skin sent pain shooting through her body, Lythia couldn't even scream. Tears poured down her face as she awaited the cold clutches of death...

**A/N: I know I'm not the best writer, but I try! Review maybe ovo?**


	2. The Ego and the Doc

Chapter 2

_Searing pain... Ripping and tearing of sensitive, warm flesh... The sensation of a warm liquid dripping... The cold hand of death gripping her heart..._

Then nothing. It all stopped. Lythia's ears were drumming from the amount of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

She thought a gunshot had run out, but she couldn't be sure. She heard only a faint ringing as if something had just exploded near her. Something probably did, she just didn't notice.

Something was off. Her attacker had ceased to move. Her vision was cloudy from tears and mascara flooding her eyes. A figure was leaning over her. His lips were moving. He? Definitely a large man...

Lythia blinked many times, clearing her eyes somewhat, and she looked at the man. Blond buzz cut, angry sneer, military uniform... Most likely American. He fit the definition of the average patriot.

The young woman made out the sound of someone, probably the person looming over her, yelling for someone before she sank into a black pit.

* * *

The burly man heard that girl he'd rescued. She was groaning, whining, and being all-out annoying.

Something cold was on her forehead. "Say something or I will not hesitate to blow your damn brains out," the man bellowed.

The bewildered Scot jumped.

"NOW!"

"O-okay!..." The girl whimpered, terrified.

The larger man lowered his weapon. "Jesus, lady, one more second and you'd be dead. The name's Tank, Earth's finest soldier. Don't wear it out." The grin on his face showed his ego even more.

Her eyes narrowed. "Well thank you, my almighty savior."

"Ya might not wanna mouth off to the guy who not only has a gun, but saved your sorry ass."

"Whatever. My name is Lythia, by the way."

"No last name?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Well whatever, doll face," Tank sighed, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back.

_What a smartass_, she thought to herself. Lythia began to stand, but was knocked back on the floor by a wave of vertigo.

"Oh yeah, Doc said you prolly shouldn't stand."

"That would have been helpful to know BEFORE I stood up!" She moaned, holding her spinning head.

"Eh." Tank shrugged.

"...and 'Doc'? He fixed me, I'm guessing?" She was curious as to who this man was.

Tank nodded, said nothing more, to her dismay, and just got up and left. Lythia brooded, offended at the obnoxiousness that man was made of.

After a while, Lythia decided she was somewhat safe. She laid her head down on the hard flooring, which smelled, and tried to sleep. It took much time, but she sunk into a deep slumber.

* * *

The next thing Lythia knew, she had awoken from a dreamless sleep to see a tall, skinny figure standing over her. He spoke with a thick accent, with undertones of pure hatred and disgust.

"Frau, vake up. Ve have vork to do... And I have some zhings to ask you."

* * *

**A/N: A short chapter, I know, but I've lots to do. Review, and I will give you invisible cookies :D!**


	3. Psycho Doctors Can Be Pains

Chapter 3

"Frau, vake up. No more sleeping. You are deadveight. If you vish for me not to end your life, you vill be useful," a cold, thick accented voice spoke.

"Oi, I'm up, I'm up..." Lythia weakly pushed herself up off of the ground. A wave of nausia hit her, and she saw nothing but stars. She rubbed her eyes and puffed air, frustrated.

Lyth blinked the spots from her eyes and focused on the man looming over her.

He was tall. Not quite as tall as the blond brute she encountered earlier, no, but still up there. He was clad in a tan uniform, brandishing a vibrant red swastika armband. Lythia was puzzled,_ I thought there were no more Nazis?_ She shook her head slightly, ignoring it.

His hair was neatly combed back, it was slick, dark, and slightly graying on the sides. Small streaks of silver wormed their way through the brown.

His facial features were very sharp. Defined cheekbones and a scowl painted a permanent "average grouch" sort of look. He had a few scars; one lining his right cheekbone below his eye, and one faintly going down his left eye. The other scars looked more fresh, like recent encounters with something sharp.

What really got her were his eyes. They were a vivid green. Not bright, but very defined. They were more of a darker, forest-green, but they seemed to sort of glow. They stood out among all of his features. Every emotion he could ever display were in those green orbs. Mostly, anger, annoyance, and defiance.

The older man easily noticed the Scot staring at her. "Stop zhat," he said with a self-righteous snarl, "One cannot gaze freely upon the glory zhat is zhe Doctor."

Lythia quickly averted her eyes. She complied with his demands on behalf of not getting murdered. The aura around that man screamed death and intolerance.

"As previously mentioned, I vish to discuss some matters regarding you sudden appearance in this vicinity," he began to circle her like a shark to fresh meat, "und your vasting of mein time."

Luthia began to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. "I-I..." It was like his presence was too much to handle, and even a single word from her would cause him to slice her jugular.

"Vell?" Impatient foot tapping followed a low growl.

"I just... Needed a place to get away from those crazy people-"

A bark of laughter interrupted her.

"Frau, you honestly believe _zhey_ are zhe crazy ones? No, no, no, my dear. You may have made zhe vorst decision of your pathetic, vorthless life by entering zhis building." Chapped lips curled into a sinister smile.

"Zhere is much you must learn about us."

Lythia shrank back in fear. She regretted ever coming here in the first place. Her first week of vacation and she runs into cannibals and madmen.

She heard a gun load.

The tall man crouched in front of her, and he spun the barrel on the weapon he was holding. "I vill make zhings so much vorse for you if you do not comply vith me. You vill answer all of mein questions, und zhen I vill decide your fate. Understand?"

The frightened Scot nodded frantically.

"Ahh, vonderbar," the European man squealed with childish delight, "I have so much to ask!" He took her hand with bone-crushing force and half-dragged her away.

* * *

The curly haired girl was ushered to a small table, two chairs set up across from one another.

"Sit," the German barked, scaring the girl. She quickly took a seat, shaking quite a bit. Both from fear, and the fact it was pretty cold inside the building.

The pale man sat across from her silently. He was so graceful with every move, never faltering with anything. You couldn't hear his breaths, nor even his footsteps. He was almost ghostly in a way.

He folded his hands neatly in his lap, eyes boring holes into hers.

"So," he started casually, "you are from somevhere in Europe, I presume?"

A nod from the blonde.

"Interesting. I am guessing Scotland or England."

"Scotland..."

"Hmm... Vhat brings you to Berlin? Have you no idea vhat zhe goings-on are around here? Not very classy to be in East Germany, ja?"

"I came here for a vacation before the wall was up. I ended up trapped on the east side... I couldn't reach the west in time..."

A pouty lipped German crooned, "Ooooh, poor little Scot, trapped in klein alt Berlin."

"You're mocking me," she said flatly.

"Really? Vhat gave you zhe hint? Ze mocking tone or zhe stretched vords? Or zhe fact I do not give a single care for you?" A snide smirk rippled across his pale, sculpted face.

"You're such a jackass," Lythia crossed her arms, sticking out her lip again. A gun was heard twisting. She didn't have to look up to know what was going on.

"Mind saying zhat again, Frauline?" The sinister snarl was convincing enough for her to vigorously shake her head "no."

"Gut. Now, back to business." He cleared his throat. "How have you survived zhis long? Mein minions should have torn you apart. Pity zhey have not."

"I dunno. I ran a lot. Hid a lot." Lyth paused for a few heartbeats. "You like to talk a lot, don't you? You enjoy hearing your voice," she snorted.

The older man tensed up, face twisting in annoyance. Lythia noticed this and laughed. "Don't get so worked up, ol' man, you'll have a heart attack. God forbid something happens to YOU of all people."

Why was she taunting the man who had the decision of whether or not to end her life, she didn't know.

But after those words came from her lip, she immediately regretted them. A cold, metal thing was placed to her forehead, and she had enough sense to know what it was.

"You have tried mein patience enough, Frau. You are lucky I have let you live as long as you have. Maybe I vas being too generous." The ending words were darkened with a twisted chuckle.

Lythia kicked herself mentally. Her last moments, wasted by taunting a killer.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tensed, prepared for the blow to end her life...

* * *

**A/N: Alrighty! Thus ends chapter 3. Review and you'll get a cookie. c:**

**((Translations:**

**Klein alt Berlin - little old Berlin**

**Frau/Frauline - Lady ))**


	4. Morons, Morons EVERYWHERE

Chapter Four

Lythia could hear the _agonizingly_ slow squeezing of a trigger. Right before the hammer smashed down to release the bullet, a hiccuping sound was heard. The Doctor groaned quite dramatically, putting the gun down.

"Ey Doc, you find any wodka? Nikolai has run out," a slurred, accented voice seemed to be the mosquito in Richtofen's ear.

"_Nein_, Nikolai, I vas _busy_."

The large man squinted right at Lythia. "Heheh, is pretty lady. Where she come from? She has vodka, da? If not, she can fuck off like fourth wife...or... Maybe that was fifth? Lost count."

"Nein, dummkopf, she has no vodka. Neizher of us do. Now vill you PLEASE depart from zhe area so I can murder her?"

"Murder? I did that to six wives. Was fun."

A scared shriek interrupted the casual sadists' conversation.

"WOULD YOU PLEASE GET HIM AWAY FROM ME?! CAN'T YOU SEE HE'S TRYING TO **KILL** ME?!" Lyth's eyes darted between the two.

"Ehh, be quiet, loudmouth. I have headache. Get Dempsey or Takeo to solve your lady problems." And with that, the drunk stumbled away.

The Scot's mouth hung agape, trying to find words. She was doomed. But, to her surprise, the Wehrmacht uniform-clad man just put the gun away, sighing heavily and almost in a whiny manner. "He ruined zhe fuuuuuun," he complained, sliding down in his chair.

"Go avay." The childish man crossed his arms, pouting. When she just stared, he waved to her. "AVAY."

"Y-...YOU PEOPLE ARE _**INSANE**_!" Lythia screamed, not thinking twice about departing.

* * *

The young woman was dumbfounded. Completely and utterly confused by the actions of the men she had seen. It was understandable how they had survived this long, considering their rather eccentric ways of doing well, anything.

But they weren't her family. They weren't her friends. She didn't care the least bit about them. Lythia wanted to go home and see her father and brother. Wanted to make sure they were okay and this nightmare hadn't yet spread to America.

But, the blonde Scot knew, from a swirling pit of pessimism deep in her gut, that her hopes of everyone she cared for were alright was slim.

She cracked under the stress suddenly weighing on her thin shoulders, and began to weep. For her loved ones. For the ones killed. Hell, even for herself and the predicament she had gotten into.

Vision blurred with tears, Lythia found the darkest place around her, drawing in her knees and cupping her face in her hands.

A low clearing of the throat was heard. Lythia sloppily wiped her nose with her sleeve and blinked the tears from her eyes. She focused on the man standing before her.

He had an almost prim-and-proper mustache, and a frown that showed he was a serious man. From his eyes up, a shadow covered his features. His cap donned a star on the front.

His uniform was one she hadn't seen before. But she studies his face a little closer, and figure he was Japanese or Chinese. She could never tell the difference.

The shorter man (significantly stunted in height compared to the others) pulled Lyth to her feet.

"It is dishonorable to act such a way for no reason," he muttered. Lythia shrugged lazily. "Iddn't like it matters anyway. For all I know, m'family's dead. I've nothing to live for.

A quick hand connected with her left cheek. "Nonsense! Dishonor on you! You have a life to live for, is that not why you live? Mull not over your loss, but fight for what you can gain back."

Lythia stared wide-eyed, getting a harsh slap from reality (which followed the slap from him, of course.)

They stared awkwardly for a few breaths until the Scot nodded slowly. Without another word, the mysterious man left.

The dumbfounded girl was left standing, yet again alone, but with a small growing sense of pride, and confusion, but mostly pride. She set out to reclaim her dignity and slap some morons around along the way.

A smile crept across her face as she wrung her hands and plotted. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all...

* * *

This felt kinda rushed, but I wanted o get the ideas out sooner.

Review ;o;? 3


	5. Update: Taking a break

I'm taking a break from this story, mainly because I've no ideas nor drive to play Zombies. I promise I'll update in the future, but for now the story is on haitus.

But kisses to my lovely reviewers. c:

See you soon!


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